And it is only quarter to ten in the evening. What happened to the young man who lived owlishly?
Waking early in the morning, before sunrise, has jerked me out of my preferred biorhythm. Late to rise, late to rest has always been my way of being. I charge up slowly and disperse my energies slowly, moving a few steps more leisurely than the day itself. Rising early forces me to rev up quickly and burn my energy rapidly in order to stay awake and alert.
I have avoided morning living as long as possible. Unfortunately, friars do not dwell in the nocturnal habitat.
These used to be my peak hours: the deepening evening, the subtle, brilliant edges around midnight. Now the evening is just a blur, and all sensation grows soft, and my consciousness drifts into cataracts.
It dismays me to feel so absent from myself at this hour. It often had been when I felt most the presence of God.